


one hell of a sleigh ride

by softlees



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Christmas Fluff, Holidays, M/M, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 08:28:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17158658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softlees/pseuds/softlees
Summary: “A-ha!” Soonyoung says accusingly, pointing at Junhui. “I knew it from the moment I hit the tile of your apartment. Look at that unfairly gorgeous face. I should have known. Pretty people can’t be trusted.”He turns to look at Wonwoo and Jihoon, voice grave and face even graver. Junhui thinks this is all intensely amusing to watch. “It’s official.” Soonyoung’s voice drops to a dramatic whisper. “He hates Christmas. Wen Junhui is the Grinch!”At that, the three of them let out varying reactions in all shades of disappointment, and Junhui feels a bit like he’s eighteen again, sitting in front of his parents after telling them just exactly what he’d wanted to pursue in college.“Okay, that’s a bit of a stretch. I don’t hate Christmas,” Junhui protests. “It’s just okay. There’s nothing that special about it.”





	one hell of a sleigh ride

**Author's Note:**

  * For [besitos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/besitos/gifts).



> To our lovely Isa. Thank you for being one of the wonderful lights of this group. Merry Christmas.

  
**i. it’s beginning to look a lot like christmas**

 

Junhui’s sitting in the parlor of Soonyoung’s apartment, which is really just a glorified living room that looks like Christmas threw up all over it — wreaths and laurels swallow up every surface imaginable, while stockings consume the fireplace whole (“ _ Jesus _ , Soonyoung, how many of these things do you have? You’re the only one who lives here. You don’t even  _ need _ this many stockings.” “Shut up and enjoy the festive spirit, why don’t you, you filthy animal?”). 

 

There are bright lights everywhere, in all sorts of shapes and sizes, filling up the entire room, teetering between the point of the overwhelming, exploding warmth, and just joyously intense. 

 

Which, now that he thinks about it, is a rather good summary of Soonyoung’s character. 

 

Wonwoo and Jihoon are in sitting gingerly in the midst of the room, having being summoned last minute by a frantic Soonyoung in their ten-year old group chat, a heavy remnant of their elementary school days. Wonwoo lets him see their texts sometimes, and Junhui doesn’t have the heart to tell him that  **_p3n1sheads_ ** really shouldn’t be the name of a groupchat between three college students in their early twenties. He supposes it speaks a lot towards the type of friendship the three of them share.

 

Junhui’s really just here because he lives with Wonwoo. Or, rather, Soonyoung had barged right into their shared apartment with a giant gummy smile, parked himself on Junhui’s lap, and declared themselves to be friends, “no takebacksies”. And Junhui guesses somewhere in between wanting to call the cops on the guy — “Why do you have a _ key _ ? This isn’t your apartment!” “I have my resources, Mr. Wen Junhui.” “Wonwoo, why does he know my name, and how did he get a key?” “Beats me, if we’re really being honest here.” — and body slamming him onto the floor out of pure instinct not too soon, they have become good friends. 

 

“We are all gathered here today,” Soonyoung says, clasping his hands together with hardly concealed glee, “thanks to a mysterious force that shall not be named.”

 

“Yeah,” Jihoon snorts, sinking further into the plush sofa cushions. Junhui wonders if it’s a good time to remind him of all the things he’s seen happen on that couch. “You.”

Soonyoung flaps his hands, waving Jihoon’s snide remark away. “No, silly.  _ The Christmas spirit _ .”

 

Junhui snorts without realizing it. “You guys still do all that kid stuff?”

 

Soonyoung gasps sharply, hand flying to his heart, while Wonwoo takes a sharp inhale and swivels his head from whatever boring news article he’s reading now on his phone, eyes blinking owlishly behind his round wire-rimmed specs. Jihoon breaks out of his nonchalant façade to stare at Junhui, mouth actually agape. 

 

If this is all that it takes to stun these three into silence, Junhui thinks that he’d have done this ages ago. The train that makes its way around the entire living room fills up the quiet, small wheels chugging along determinedly on a track that never ends.

 

“Kid stuff?” Someone says after a good minute of hearing the tiny engine make its way around the room, rather affronted. Junhui is incredulous to find out that it belongs to Lee Jihoon, of all people. 

 

Junhui plays with the hem of his sweater, a bit subdued but still unflinchingly unapologetic. “Yeah, kid stuff. Christmas is for little kids, isn’t it? You guys still put stock in that capitalist holiday?”

 

“You take that back,” Wonwoo seethes, more angry than Junhui’s ever seen him in their three years of living together, and Junhui’s accidentally had about twenty stray cats follow him into their apartment before, all in various stages of disheveled. That was a fun one to explain to their landlord, who was not very amused. 

 

“Christmas is  _ Christmas _ , Junhui.” Wonwoo says, slipping in a little bit of the wonder and awe that Junhui hears whenever Christmas fanatics talk about ‘the best holiday in the universe’, and so he knows he’s in for a long ride with this one. 

 

He just didn’t expect Wonwoo and Jihoon, two of the most emotionally barren people he knows, to be so worked up about  _ Christmas _ .

 

Jihoon nods, as if to say “you betcha, buddy” — Junhui had been talking out loud again. Sometimes his brain isn’t quite connected to his mouth. There are plenty of miscommunications, plenty of times where Junhui’s blurted out the very first thing sitting on his tongue. It’s what got him into this mess in the first place, really. 

 

As of right now, Junhui’s struggling to hold in a laugh. Jihoon looks slightly ridiculous thanks to the large santa hat sitting lopsided on his head, currently consuming his black choppy locks whole. It contrasts the very serious demeanor he’s just adopted.

 

“This holiday is serious business in our household, Junhui. I suggest you watch what you say next very, very carefully.” 

 

“A- _ ha _ !” Soonyoung says accusingly, pointing at Junhui. “I knew it from the moment I hit the tile of your apartment. Look at that unfairly gorgeous face. I should have known. Pretty people can’t be trusted.” 

 

He turns to look at Wonwoo and Jihoon, voice grave and face even graver. Junhui thinks this is all intensely amusing to watch. “It’s official.” Soonyoung’s voice drops to a dramatic whisper. “He hates Christmas. Wen Junhui is the  _ Grinch _ !”

 

At that, the three of them let out varying reactions in all shades of disappointment, and Junhui feels a bit like he’s eighteen again, sitting in front of his parents after telling them just exactly what he’d wanted to pursue in college.

 

“Okay, that’s a bit of a stretch. I don’t hate Christmas,” Junhui protests. “It’s just okay. There’s nothing that special about it.”

 

He’s mildly annoyed, or as annoyed as you can get with a trio of friends who have stuck together practically since the womb and have been dragging you into their ridiculous arguments all since you’ve met them — which is (needless to say) not very much. Junhui just finds it very unfair that Jihoon gets to say things like “I hope you drop dead, maggot,” after losing a particularly rousing match of Smash Ultimate, while Junhui says  _ I don’t understand the appeal of Christmas  _ once, and suddenly it’s like he’s straight up cussed out the Pope. 

 

“It’s ‘cause we know he doesn’t really mean it,” Soonyoung coos, glancing over at Jihoon, who has this smug smile curling on his face, because that little fucker  _ does _ , in fact, mean it. He’s just groomed Soonyoung into believing the best of him, even when there is clearly very little evidence of such a thing existing in his body. 

 

Wonwoo just looks at him, mouth agape, glasses slightly askew. Junhui grumbles at last, ducking his head slightly so they won’t see him flush, because Wonwoo’s been growing out his hair lately so it lays like a stubborn forest right on top of his head, curls turning this way and that. The effect is very adorable — Wonwoo manages to look like some ethereal, cute book fairy instead of a mangy street rat like normal people _should_ with hair like that — which troubles Junhui, because crushing on a friend has never quite turned out well for him [see: **(1)** ].

 

[ **1.** Junhui has had an entirety of three crushes in his pathetically dry love life. All three of them were his closest friends before he had gone and developed feelings for them, and he was horrified to find out that when Junhui catches feelings, it is absolutely awful. He turns into a bumbling mess, tripping over his own tongue, sweating nervously for no reason at all, blush curling around the tips of his ears and across his cheeks. Minghao, the very first boy he’d confessed to ever liking, laughs everytime he recounts the story. “I’d always imagined you to be the confident gay, not the panicked one,” he’d always say, and Junhui hates him because he’s absolutely right. He and Minghao, luckily, are still close despite going to different colleges and a botched date/confession thing, unlike the other two.]

 

“Nothing that special about it?” Wonwoo asks, swiveling his body so that he’s facing Junhui, knobbly legs knocking against Junhui’s own lithe ones, a remnant of his time spent dancing back in high school.

 

“What about all the joy in the crisp winter air? All the lights, all the decorations on the tree? The annual Harry Potter movie marathon on ABC? Drinking peppermint hot chocolate by the fireplace? Giving gifts and seeing that wide smile on everyone’s face when they open them?” Wonwoo’s voice gets more and more desperate when Junhui rebuts every single thing he lists with a slight shake of his head. “You like gifts, right? Please convince me that there’s a normal human being in you somewhere, Wen Junhui. Everyone likes gifts.”

 

“I am a perfectly normal human being,” Junhui sniffs, narrowing his eyes, leaning back against the armrest as he kicks at Wonwoo’s spindly shin. “Just one that doesn’t care for Christmas.”

 

Wonwoo scoffs. “ _ Everybody _ likes Christmas. You’re just weird.”

 

“You’re weird.” 

 

“ _ You’re  _ weirder.”

 

“You’re the weirdest!”

 

“You’re the weirderest!” 

 

“You’re both children,” Jihoon interrupts drily, glancing at the both of them with disinterest, already losing personal investment in the conversation. Junhui realizes that at this point, he and Wonwoo have gotten so close that their faces are a few inches away from one another, so close that Junhui can see the fringes of long eyelashes and smell the faintly earthy scent that Wonwoo manages to exude at any time of the day. 

 

Immediately he pulls back, face heating with a hot blush. 

 

Soonyoung’s looking at the both of them, a sly smirk playing around his lips. Junhui gets a sense of foreboding, this dread curling in his stomach — he’d been too transparent, hadn’t he, and now Wonwoo will want to terminate their lease, because who wants to live with someone who’s hardcore crushing on them, it’ll just be intensely embarrassing and awkward now, so now that Junhui’s out of the picture, not only will he be a broke college student but he’ll be a  _ homeless _ broke college student, and then he’ll have to dive into drug dealing in order to make up for it, just another junkie swallowed up by the city, fated to disappear forever —

 

Oh, this is not good. He’s an absolute mess. Junhui wipes his palms on the fabric of his jeans, horrified to find out that he is indeed sweating. 

 

Soonyoung’s smile just gets wider. That ass. 

 

✧ ✧ ✧

 

**ii. you’re a mean one, mr. grinch**

 

“You really meant what you said?” Wonwoo says out of nowhere, when they’re in the middle of studying for finals. Junhui’s brain is so frazzled it feels like Wonwoo is talking at him in an entirely different language. He’s stared at the pages of his psych book for so long he swears he can see the words still imprinted on his eyelids when he closes them for too long. 

 

“Mm?” Junhui rubs his eyes and reaches for what must be his fifth can of Monster. At this point he’s running on fumes, so he can’t afford to dedicate much brain power towards freaking out at the fact that Wonwoo currently has his annoying adorable fuzzy sock-clad feet in Junhui’s lap. 

 

They’ve got a fuzzy red ball at the end of them, and antlers to match. Wonwoo is wearing reindeer fuzzy socks. With no shame whatsoever. Junhui knew procrastinating on studying for finals was probably going to kill him, but he did not expect to add “absolute endearment” to the list of possible causes of death. 

 

“What you said earlier, at Soonyoung’s.” Wonwoo gets awfully impatiently and mulish when it gets late, like a bratty little kid. Junhui’s pulled enough all-nighters with him to know that Wonwoo likes to have a cup of hot chocolate instead of coffee, because he’s got enough insomnia without caffeine egging him on.

 

Wonwoo toes Junhui’s thigh when he doesn’t respond right away, scrunching his nose in delight as Junhui find it in him to grumble and pushes his feet away. 

 

“The not liking Christmas thing, Junnie,” Wonwoo says, lifting a brow delicately. Junhui short circuits a little bit at the childhood nickname — Wonwoo had walked in on a video call between Minghao and him once and had adopted it as well, especially when he realized that it could be used to persuade Junhui into doing things.

 

Junhui’s just glad that for all the brains that Wonwoo has, he is absolutely oblivious towards the massive crush that Junhui is beginning to discover he harbors for him. He’ll take being taken advantage of over having to deal with his feelings anyday. 

 

“I don’t  _ not _ like Christmas,” He finally manages to wheedle out, once he remembers what exactly Wonwoo’s prattling on about. It (unfortunately) is decidedly very Grinch-like. “It’s just not the best holiday. 

 

“It’s not  _ my _ favorite holiday,” he quickly amends when Wonwoo shoots him a wounded look. 

 

“How can it  _ not _ be your favorite holiday?” Wonwoo asks, exasperated. He heaves a big sigh, which causes his frames to tumble down from its perch atop the bridge of his nose, which endears Junhui’s tired and addled brain even further.

 

Junhui shrugs. “I just never bought into that sort of stuff. Not everyone’s brought up on Christmas cheer, you know.” He takes this moment to pinch Wonwoo’s toes, which elicits a giggle from the other boy. “Brat.”

 

“Okay, but,” Wonwoo says seriously, holding the edges of the table, “Christmas is not all that capitalist crap, you know.” 

 

He looks like he’s about to really give a sermon right now, when they’re in the midst of dying and cramming ten weeks’ worth of information into their puny brains at two in the morning. Maybe it’s Junhui’s coffee-addled brain, but seeing Wonwoo swaddled in a sweatshirt two sizes too big on him and with his glasses trembling on the tip of his nose, raring to fight him on this even though he’s really frail in all actuality, and loses pretty much instantaneously whenever they arm wrestle to do the dishes, is… 

 

It’s, it’s — really cute, actually, and Junhui just manages to refrain from banging his head on the tabletop at the butterflies that tremble in his chest.

 

“Okay, okay, Saint Nick.” Junhui laughs, holding up his hands in surrender. “I believe you.”

 

Wonwoo narrows his eyes at him. “No you don’t.”

 

“I just said I believed you!” Junhui protests, looking wildly at an invisible crowd. “Can we get a replay, please?”

 

“Yeah,” Wonwoo scoffs, but taps his heart with a tiny finger, swallowed by his sleeve. “You’ve got to believe  _ in here _ .” And now, if this was a movie, it would cut to a montage with dramatic music in the background, where Wonwoo would teach Junhui about the  _ joys of Christmas _ and  _ the miracles of the holidays, _ all that Hallmark crap that’s been beaten to a pulp and mangled and put back together all over again, recycled just about this time every year. 

 

But because this is not a movie, and is, in fact, real life, Junhui just cackles. It’s a bit of delirium induced by stress mixed in with the fact that Junhui believes that Wonwoo is actually too cute for him to function properly, being so worked up over  _ Christmas  _ — Christmas, of all things! — and the fact that is about three thirty in the morning, just about the time when Junhui’s brain degenerates and goes to shit anyways.

 

He’s got his schedule on dialed down to a tee. He knows his body inside and out, having tested all his limits during freshman year of college. It isn’t bad until you realize it is four o’clock in the morning, you’ve got a sixteen-page essay due in two hours, and just that many 5-hour Energy drinks to push you through it.

 

What can he say? College has been a collective of bad decisions strung together by really good ones. 

 

“Why are you laughing?” Wonwoo asks petulantly. “I’m being serious here, you know.”

 

“Oh, I know,” Junhui grins, chest still heaving and tears beginning to build up in the corners of his eyes. 

 

“Jerk,” Wonwoo says without any bite, adjusting his glasses and toeing Junhui in the thigh again. 

 

Junhui just laughs again, throwing his head back. “I’m the jerk for having an opinion?”

 

“It’s an incredibly invalid opinion,” Wonwoo crosses his arms. 

 

“Thank you,” Junhui sniffs, oozing with fake hurt, “for that, really. My self-esteem is shriveling up as we speak.” He drapes a hand dramatically over his forehead. “I’m going to go write this down in my diary right now.  _ Dear Diary  _ — what day is it today?”

 

“The twelfth.” Wonwoo says in a grudging manner, which is all but betrayed by the burgeoning smile on his face. 

 

“Thank you.” Junhui nods, acknowledging Wonwoo’s contribution to the narrative. “Anyways, where was I? Ah, yes,  _ Dear Diary, you would not  _ **_believe_ ** _ what Wonwoo told me today, on the twelfth of December. He said that my opinion was not valid. Can you believe that? I’m so hurt, it feels like I’ve been betrayed seven different ways, worse than when Harry Potter destroyed all of Tom Riddle’s horcruxes — in this metaphor I guess I’m Voldemort, which isn’t very good in my case, but alas, this is the grave I’ve dug myself into—“ _

 

“Shut up,” Wonwoo laughs, tossing his pencil at Junhui from across the table, too busy grabbing at his stomach to aim properly. Junhui laughs because Wonwoo is laughing, which is all too easy to do nowadays. 

 

“First, you insult my opinion,” Junhui says, tossing a pencil back with every sentence to punctuate. “Then, you insult my very person by telling me to shut up.” He looks upward, which is a rather futile gesture, considering that Junhui is agnostic and has been for the past couple of years. “Is there anyway I can cancel this lease?”

 

“Nope!” Wonwoo grins, nearly cackling with glee at this point, leaning back in his chair. “You’re stuck with me for the foreseeable future, Wen Junhui. No take-backsies. This one’s legally binding too, so ha!”

 

“You’re a little shit Jeon Wonwoo, you know that?” Junhui grumbles goodnaturedly, picking up all the pencils he can reach from his position in the chair. He’s not that rich nor that unattached to his studies to the point where he can afford to lose any of these precious babies. Stationery is (unfortunately) very expensive. 

 

“I know.” Wonwoo chuckles lowly. “But I’m  _ your _ little shit, aren’t I?”

 

Junhui blinks, brain too tired to comprehend anything that just came out of Wonwoo’s mouth. 

 

Wonwoo blinks back, suddenly embarrassed, hand flying to the back of his neck. “That,” he admits, “did not come out the way I expected it to.”

 

Junhui snorts. “You think?”

 

“Shut the fuck up.” Wonwoo grumbles mulishly. “It’s ass o’clock right now. I’m allowed this slip up.”

 

“You shut the fuck up.” Junhui fires back childishly, sticking out his tongue at Wonwoo, who gasps with mock outrage. 

 

“You know what? I’ve decided. I’m going to make you eat your words, Wen Junhui.” Wonwoo declares, leaning forward a little bit in his chair. “You’ll like Christmas by the time I’m through with you. Bet. ”

 

“Bet?” Junhui straightens up in his chair after hearing the competition in his roommates voice, smiling all the while. “Hit me with your best shot.”

 

✧ ✧ ✧

 

**iii. rocking around the christmas tree**

 

Junhui squints at the bottom of the shopping list incredulously.

 

“A six-foot Christmas tree?” He looks at Wonwoo dubiously. Looks back at the list, and Wonwoo’s godawful handwriting to make sure he’s read it right. 

 

Yup. A six-foot Christmas tree it is. 

 

“Can we even fit one in our apartment? Is this allowed?”

 

Wonwoo sniffs. “I’ve already cleared it with our landlord. He can’t believe you don’t like Christmas either, and has given me full permission to convert you before this year’s festivities are over. I’ve planned this all out.” Wonwoo sticks out his tongue, scrunching his eyes shut in the process. Junhui takes the momentary distraction to flick the fool on the forehead, just because he can.

 

“Ow!” Wonwoo frowns, clutching at his forehead with one hand and squinting at Junhui. “You’re going to be put on the naughty list for this, if you aren’t on there already, you fiend.”

 

Junhui laughs. “That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think? I’m a pretty swell guy.”

 

“Yeah,” Wonwoo mutters darkly as he climbs into the passenger seat. “Tell that to the stinging spot on my forehead.”

 

Junhui just smiles, and wiggles his fingers, getting into the driver’s seat. “Let’s just say that’s payback for my wallet today, and after all the grief you’re planning to put me through these next couple weeks.” 

 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, asshole. Put your foot on the gas pedal. We’ve got a lot to do today.”

 

✧ ✧ ✧

 

**iv. santa baby**

 

“Is this not creepy to you?” Junhui asks rather loudly, brazenly making eye contact with every mother in a two foot radius who stares him down with cold eyes. They all simultaneously shuffle their kid away, one hand protectively curling around their shoulders and another hand on their pepper spray, muttering something about “Kids these days,” and “They just keep getting weirder and weirder”. 

 

Junhui is neither of these things, thank you very much, but Wonwoo has already looped his hand around the crook of Junhui’s elbow and pulled him away before he can let the moms know exactly what’s going on. 

 

“They’re  _ kids _ !” Wonwoo hisses, tilting his head upwards so that the intensity of the phrase does not miss Junuhi’s attention. 

 

“Yeah, so?” Junhui mutters mutinously. “They’re never too young to learn.”

 

They’re at the mall today, so that Wonwoo can catch up in some Christmas shopping for Bohyuck and Seulgi, his siblings, and so Junhui can be properly introduced to “the best mall Santa that Wonwoo’s met in his entire life”. Junhui had shuddered at that, because that meant that Wonwoo had voluntarily gone out of his way to meet more than one of these capitalist imposters [see:  **(2)** ]. 

 

[ **2.** Junhui has never understood the appeal of mall Santas. One, they’re creepy. Two, they can grow beards a thousand times longer than Junhui could ever  _ dream  _ of having himself. Three, he’s permanently scarred by the one he had in his local mall; the one time his mom had dragged him out to see Santa, he’d been smelling of booze and was very inappropriately touching one of the elves. Junhui was only seven, but he was smart enough to understand infidelity when he saw it. After telling Wonwoo this story, his roommate had huffed and said one bad experience shouldn’t spoil _ all _ mall santas for him, and when Junhui had tried to argue, Wonwoo had pointed out all of the bad experiences he’s had with Junhui as a roommate. He even talked about the twenty stray cats, even though he was just as endeared by them as Junhui was! But he had a point, the damned lawyer to be, and so here they were.]

 

“Oh, no you don’t,” Wonwoo reaches in and pinches Junhui’s side viciously, sharp enough that he feels it even through the ten thousand layers he’s got on. Junhui swears quietly this time, at the warning glare he gets from Wonwoo, even if the entire thing is his damned fault. He must’ve learned that trick from Soonyoung, that freak. 

 

“What was that for?” Junhui rubs his side, whining pitifully. 

 

“I’m not going to let you destroy Christmas for these kids.” Wonwoo just says determinedly, steering Junhui nowhere and anywhere at once. 

 

“I wasn’t going to say anything!” Junhui protests, sullen. “I’m not that much of a dick, you know.”

 

“Yeah, I know.” Wonwoo says amusedly. “It’s just cute to see you riled up like this.”

 

Junhui doesn’t quite know how else to react to that, so he sort of just huffs, pretending to be a lot more offended than he actually is. 

 

It’s a while before any of them speak again. Wonwoo’s hand is still comfortably nestled in the crook of Junhui’s elbow, and none of them ever mention it. Junhui is all too happy to let it rest there, and Wonwoo has taken to whistling carols, pointing out the various holiday decorations as they stroll the mall. 

 

When they pass by the Santa again, he makes eye contact with Junhui, smiling jovially. Junhui assumes he’s smiling jovially anyways, because his hat is too fluffy and the spectacles are doing a better job of concealing Santa’s eyes than helping him see.

 

“You can’t tell me that’s not creepy,” Junhui complains, this time far enough from the ears of any kids or their judging mothers. “You pay about twenty bucks for your kid sit on some old man’s lap, who probably has been grooming his beard for months — just for this month —to get their picture taken as he asks them whether they’ve been good or not.” 

 

He hisses, straightening up as he spews his realization. “It’s straight up Christmas  _ prostitution _ .”

 

Santa waves at them in between rounds of taking pictures with the children. Wonwoo is the only one who waves back. Junhui is firmly rooted in the belief that Santa doesn’t exist, so he doesn’t care if this particular act lands him on the naughty list or not. 

 

As Wonwoo’s said, he’s probably on there already. 

 

“I hate this.” Wonwoo says finally. “I can never look at mall Santas the same way ever again.”

 

Junhui looks at him, one eyebrow raised. “Am I wrong?”

 

“No,” Wonwoo concedes after a while, mouth pursing in that way he does when he doesn’t want to lose an argument, stubborn till the very end.

 

It only takes one glance for the both of them to burst into hardly concealed laughter, loud and booming. The moms just stare at them, shake their heads, and begin pushing their strollers at a faster rate in the opposite direction. Which, of course, only makes them laugh even harder. 

 

✧ ✧ ✧

 

**v. let it snow, let it snow, let it snow / do you want to build a snowman**

 

Wonwoo is glued to the window, breath fogging up the glass every now and then so that he’s forced to pull away and wipe them clean before he returns to the view, absolutely transfixed. He looks like an excited little kid, eyes practically sparkling as his fingers rest on the glass. He had nearly trampled Junhui earlier this morning, who had passed out on the ground the night before catching up on some readings for the next quarter, in an attempt to catch a glimpse at the first snowfall.

 

Junhui allows himself to take a tiny break from doing the dishes, watching with warm amusement as his roommate marvels over the sight. 

 

“Junnie!” Wonwoo exclaims, beckoning him over to the windowsill without ever pulling away from the glass. “Come! It’s snowing!”

 

Junhui jolts, and is intensely lucky that Wonwoo hadn’t swiveled around to see his roommate already staring at him. He covers it up with a gruff cough and a, “Have you never seen snow before?” before making his way around behind Wonwoo. 

 

Wonwoo makes a dissatisfied sound. “Of course I’ve seen snow before. But this one’s the first one this year, which means that it’s officially Christmas now.”

 

Junhui snorts. “Last time I checked, Christmas is actually five days away.”

 

Wonwoo turns back with a furrow in his brow and a frown on his face, smacking Junhui square in the stomach. “Calendars are a social construct.” He turns back to the window, not at all paying attention to the way Junhui lets out an  _ oof _ ! and grabs at his stomach painfully. 

 

“You know what this means, right?” Wonwoo says excitedly, though Junhui doesn’t have the heart to tell him he’s all but talking to himself at this point. It’s silent for a while before Wonwoo repeats the line again, more forcefully.

 

“Oh, me?” Junhui points to himself, playing dumb even though he knows Wonwoo is talking to him. It  _ is _ only those two in the apartment, after all. 

 

“Yes, you,” Wonwoo says irritably, turning back to hit Junhui again, but by then he’s scooted back so Wonwoo hits nothing but air, nearly toppling over in the process. Junhui wishes he had his phone on him to capture the outrage and betrayal on Wonwoo’s face. 

 

“Asshole! Stop laughing at me!”

 

“ _ Me?!”  _ Junhui splutters. “You’re the one abusing  _ me _ here!”

 

“Anyways,” Wonwoo says, getting up from the floor, as dignified as one can muster after a display of unflattering athleticism and falling flat on his face, “this means we have to build a snowman. Stat.”

 

Junhui looks at him blankly. 

 

Wonwoo stares back unflinchingly, glasses askew from his recent meeting with the floor. 

 

“A snowman,” Junhui says, deadpan. He turns to look at the thermostat, which is a very attractive thirty degrees fahrenheit, and nearly whimpers. Wen Junhui doesn’t  _ do _ the cold, doesn’t do winters. He’s more of a warm spring, on the cusp of summer sort of guy, and Wonwoo  _ knows _ that. 

 

“Please, Junnie?” Wonwoo clasps his hands together. “It’s  _ tradition _ .”

 

Junhui continues to protest, but he sighs and walks into his room to change for the colder weather, and follows Wonwoo out the door anyways. They both know he’s a sucker for that nickname. 

 

✧ ✧ ✧

 

**vi. rudolph the red nosed reindeer**

 

“You did this to me,” Junhui moans, pointing miserably at Wonwoo from where he’s standing in the doorway to Junhui’s room. Junhui’s nose is all kinds of stuffed and his head is pounding mighty fierce, so it comes out more garbled and less threatening than he’d like. “This is your fault, you know.”

 

“Poor baby,” Wonwoo clucks his tongue, but the tone is unsympathetic and more like —

 

“Are you  _ laughing _ at me?” Junhui whines, feeling more sick than ever. “I’m sick, you stupid fool, and right before Christmas too!”

 

At this, Wonwoo straightens up a little, mouth curving upwards, eyes mighty shiny. “Did I hear worry in your voice? Could it be that you, Mr. Wen Junhui, the Grinch —”

 

“Not the Grinch,” Junhui complains, but is ignored, as per usual. He reaches over for the box of Kleenex he keeps on his bedside and blows noisily into the tissue, gagging slightly when he puts it closer to examine the contents of his nostrils.

 

Yup. He’s definitely sick. 

 

“The Grinch,” Wonwoo affirms. His grin widens when Junhui reaches for another tissue. “Or should I call you Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer instead?”

 

“You’re kidding me,” Junhui groans, rubbing at his nose. He doesn’t want to even imagine how bad he could look at this very moment. Wonwoo has got him at his most vulnerable. 

 

“Nope,” Wonwoo grins, and hands Junhui his phone so that he can verify the truth of his statement.

 

Junhui’s nose is actually red, like  _ red red _ , like Rudolph the Reindeer red, and there are dark eyebags deeper than the Mariana Trench — yup, he’s going to stop looking now, before he really contemplates opening the window and tossing himself out of there. Junhui turns off the phone and tosses it into his comforters just so he won’t have to deal with reality just a little bit longer.

 

“Are you actually worried about missing Christmas and all its festivities?” Wonwoo asks.

 

Junhui blinks, realizing what Wonwoo’s said, even through all that mucus. “No,” he says cautiously, backtracking. “You’ve just hyped this damn holiday up so much, I’d hate for you to fall flat on your ass and be proven wrong when you realize I’m right.”

 

“Mhm,” Wonwoo says, but his smile widens to the point of shit-eating. Junhui knows he’s lost this one, so he sort of lets out this dramatic groan and flops back onto his sheets, wishing that they could swallow him whole.

 

“Okay,” Junhui concedes, throwing one arm over his face. “So maybe,  _ maybe _ , you’ve turned me around on this Christmas thing.”

 

And he has. Even though their experiences have been rather _ questionable _ , Junhui find himself enjoying them nonetheless, happy to enjoy Wonwoo’s company. 

 

Maybe it comes with the territory of being a little bit older, but Junhui finds that the nervousness that usually comes with a crush has all but dissipated, eased by Wonwoo’s earnestness and his eagerness to do everything holiday related with Junhui. 

 

There’s just something magical about Christmas, indeed, and Junhui finds himself smiling in spite of it all. 

 

The celebratory screech and excited dancing [see:  **(3)** ] that Junhui assumes follows is cut short by a loud thump and a muffled curse. 

 

[ **3.** Wonwoo is a bag of bones, really, and anytime he attempts to dance it is a calamitous matter for all the parties involved, even if he is the only one in the room dancing.  _ Especially _ , Junhui’s learned, if he is the only one in the room dancing. If there is something fragile or perishable in his vicinity, which is a rather annoyingly large radius, because whoever made Wonwoo decided he would be long, lanky, and dangerous too, Wonwoo will find a way to maim it.]

 

Junhui pulls his head up, propping himself up by leaning back on his elbows. He’s not even surprised at this point. 

 

“Stub your toe on the doorframe?” he asks, sympathetic, because he is in fact the better person and actually cares for the wellbeing of his dear roommate. Wonwoo hops around their apartment and continues to let out a string of curses that definitely aren’t holiday appropriate.

 

“Poor baby,” Junhui says, watching him in amusement. He takes this time to cluck his tongue and mimic the way Wonwoo was cooing at him just a couple moments prior, because even though Junhui is the superior roommate, he’ll still take this time to gloat in the pain and misery that karma’s caused Wonwoo.

 

The boy in question just flips him off. 

 

✧ ✧ ✧

 

**vii. all i want for christmas is you**

 

“You can’t go out, with you being sick and all,” Wonwoo shrugs, though he’s not really looking at Junhui, head tilted down so that Junhui can see all the tinsel in his hair and the tiny holly clips tangled in his locks. “So I figure I’d bring the caroling to you.”

 

“Dork.” Junhui smiles at this, though if anyone asks, he’ll blame it on the meds. Dayquil is some powerful stuff. He leans against the doorframe, pretty sure all of his affection for his roommate pouring out at this point, but he’s too far gone to care anyways. 

 

“But first,” Wonwoo says, voice tinged with embarrassment, “would you look up?”

 

Junhui obliges. At first, he squints, because it looks like someone went to town and bedazzled their front door — probably Soonyoung, Junhui thinks — and because Junhui’s vision has always been shitty anyways, until he catches a little flash of red nestled among green leaves. 

 

Oh. 

 

_ Oh _ .

 

“Oh,” Wonwoo repeats, nervously pulling at the hem of his sweater, which he only does when he’s really nervous, Junhui remembers. He remembers it because he’s stupidly into Wonwoo and when he’s stupidly into people he picks up on their nervous habits and their tics and just anything about them, really, instead of making moves on them (there’s a reason why his love life is so pathetically dry). Junhui fixates on the hem of Wonwoo’s sweater instead of that other thing, because it’s safe, much safer than thinking that his roommate would like to kiss him —

 

“This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?” Junhui grins, as he pulls out of the kiss.

 

Wonwoo blinks at him, hair all mussed up, lips a bit more plump than normal. His glasses are a bit askew, and so is all the tinsel in his hair, but there’s no mistaking the little smile that curls upwards, or the little tilt of his chin that Junhui’s learned to mean small defiance. 

 

“Maybe so.” Wonwoo looks all too jubilant to even attempt looking smug, and so Junhui forgives him, leaning in for another kiss that they’re both pretty enthusiastic at returning. 

 

“Besides,” Wonwoo says later, a bit muffled because he’s got his head on Junhui’s lap facing the television. They’re watching  _ Home Alone 2 _ — the best one, Wonwoo insists, though Junhui has never seen the other ones for comparison — and Junuhi’s got one hand in Wonwoo’s hair and one holding Wonwoo’s hand. “I could never date anyone who doesn’t like Christmas.”

 

Junhui smiles at that. “Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Well, in that case, I think it’s beginning to grow on me.”

 

“Good.”

  
  



End file.
